


Honey

by FullmetalFeminist



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, I can't believe I'm writing this, Maybe it's not what you think it is, Multi, OOC, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalFeminist/pseuds/FullmetalFeminist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're not going to like it. </p><p>Inspired by a friend who wondered how awkward a threesome with John, Sherlock and Molly would be. <br/>So I wrote this and she was not happy. </p><p>You're not going to be happy either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey

Molly stood nervously by the bedroom door, twisting her cardigan in her hands. It was the only thing she'd taken off before he'd told her.

She stared at him. Lounging on the bed, naked but half covered in white sheets. Serene. Confident.  _Hateful._

  
She startled at the sound of keys in the door downstairs. Finally she found her tongue. "How could you," she hissed, glancing toward the kitchen, "not tell him."

Sherlock tilted his head to one side and Molly realized, hysterically, that having John as a boyfriend for the past year had had no impact on his inability to understand human nature. "I thought we'd surprise him."

Molly barely choked back a bitter laugh. "This," she informed him, "is _not_  the sort of thing you surprise someone with. You've got to talk about it beforehand, Sherlock!"

"Yes, exactly. We talked about it. That's what the book said."

"No! Not just us! You and John! What...what book?" Molly shifted uncomfortably. Oh god, he had an instruction manual. What if he'd glued John's face on the diagrams again? What if he'd glued _her_ face on them? Sherlock leaned over to take a book off his nightstand. Out of habit Molly looked away, trying not to stare at his...everything. But given what she'd been invited here to do, she might as well ogle. A little. While she could. Before John marched her to the door, or, worse, before Sherlock admitted his repulsion for her. Why had she agreed to this again?

"Come here," Sherlock said, squinting at the book as he thumbed the pages. He brushed his hair back with his hand. It was too long again, getting in his eyes. "Molly," he said, looking up.

Ah, that's why.

She sat next to him on the bed and watched as he flipped past several poorly drawn diagrams. "What about this?" he asked, indicating something called a daisy chain.

Molly clamped her lips together and looked up at him. "I think these are the worst drawings I've ever seen."

Sherlock considered. "Probably."

Molly looked back at the diagram. "Sherlock, these are all women."

"That hardly means we couldn't replicate it."

Molly smiled a little. This ridiculous man and his terrible plans. Bless. "No."

A sigh escaped him. He turned the page.

The sound of keys tossed on the table and the crinkle of plastic let them know John had arrived home. Sherlock and Molly looked at each other, and finally the terror she was feeling started to trickle in to his awareness. She was probably right. This is going to be a disaster, she'd said.

Oh.

"Everything from the list," John called from the kitchen. He was sorting the shopping, putting the milk and wine away. He picked up the last two items and walked toward the bedroom. "Although why we need condoms is beyond me. We've both been tested. Unless there's something you need to," John said as he pushed the door open, stopping short as Molly and Sherlock both looked over at him. "Tell me," he finished. 

John's eyes began blinking rapidly as everything became clear. Condoms and water based lubricant on the shopping list. Sherlock frequently consulting a book with a torn off cover, now opened before him to an illustration labeled 'Puppy Pile'. Molly, on their bed. Molly, who'd do anything for Sherlock. Molly, who smiled cautiously and said, "I've been tested, too."

_Oh, my god._

With what he felt was considerable grace given the circumstances, John leveled his gaze at Sherlock and said, "Kitchen. Now." then stalked out of the room.

Molly and Sherlock locked eyes. Everyone was in the mood to kill him, yet again. "Yes, all right," he consented to them both, standing and pulling the sheet around himself as he followed John to the kitchen. 

John stood with his back to him, fingertips resting on the kitchen table, head tilted down. "What," he managed slowly, "in. the. hell. Could have possessed you," his voice rising, "to concoct _this_?" 

Sherlock frowned a bit. "You miss women," he said simply. 

John's eyes widened and his expression changed from irritation to bewilderment. "When. When did I say that?"

Sherlock had noticed months ago, and he said as much. Slowly but perceptibly, John had begun to check out women again. The bloom was clearly off the rose in terms of their relationship. If he wanted to keep John, he'd better keep things fresh, and nothing was fresher than something they'd never done before. 

"Like have a threesome with a mutual friend?" John asked, aghast. 

Sherlock nodded. 

"Love, you don't like women like that."

Sherlock's lips twisted into a tiny smirk. "You do. And...who knows? Maybe I could. If you show me what to do."

John stared at him. This man, the love of his life, casually suggesting he show him how to have sex with a woman. And that they all three get it on together. With no prior discussion. In the middle of the day. 

Why was he surprised?

"We can trust her," Sherlock attempted as assurance.

"Mmmm."

"She has your preferred female body type," he offered.

"Oh."

"John," Sherlock said, but John had turned on his heel and was stalking back to the bedroom. He didn't seem to be addressing anyone at all when he said "Fine. Let's have a threesome." 

"John, that's-" Sherlock started to say, following him, but stopped when the bedroom door slammed in his face. 

John pressed his forehead against the other side of the door. "Molly, you don't have to do this," he said, eyes closed. "I'm sure he made it sound like I asked for this, but I didn't." 

"I know. Well, I know now," she said. "Still, can't help feeling slightly rejected. Actually, I've been feeling slightly rejected for a while now. Dating lately has been...demoralizing. And basically nonexistent." John nodded, remembering his own dismal dating attempts, and looked over at her. 

She was naked. Slowly she stood, apprehension curling her hands into fists at her sides. "Before you tell me to go, I want you to see exactly what you're rejecting." John's shocked stare did not give her any confidence. "I won't come between you," she promised. "Well," she continued, a smile spreading across her face, "I suppose that would be all right if I did." 

 "That's good, Molly; defuse the tension with humor!" Sherlock shouted through the door. 

John felt like he was losing his mind. "You are actually okay with this?" he asked. 

Molly nodded. "I'm okay. I'm a lot of things."

John nodded back. "Okay," he said. "Now I get," he continued, "why you said yes _to him._ But," he waved his hand between them, "there's never been anything between us, that I'm aware of. So. Why?"

Molly lifted her shoulders and looked off to the side. "Three continents?" she suggested. 

John snapped his head to the left, glaring at the door. "What have you been telling her?" he yelled. 

"The truth," came the muffled reply.

"Yeah?" he challenged the door. "Well how about I tell her about uni?" He looked back at Molly. "Seems our Sherlock was quite the little cockslu-" 

"That's enough, John!" 

"Led me to believe I was the first."

"I never said  _that."_

Molly desperately wanted to laugh. This was all so awful. "I think maybe I should go," she said quietly.

John finally gave her his full attention. This shy, clever woman who had agreed to a tryst with them was standing naked before him, and he hadn't even looked. His eyes swept over her, ending at her face. "You're lovely," he said. 

"Thank you."

John shook his head. "He won't know what to do with you."

"Well," Molly said conspiratorially, "you'll just have to show him, then."

John cleared his throat. He opened the door. Sherlock looked from John to Molly, his eyes flitting over her, then to John. "Is that good, then?" 

"I should say so," John responded. 

Sherlock joined Molly, then draped the sheet he'd been wearing back on to the bed. Molly blushed scarlet and covered her mouth. "Is  _that_ good too?" he asked, his voice lowered to a growl. 

Molly started giggling. 

"Right!" John exclaimed. "Sobriety's certainly not doing me any favors now. Get the wine, then, shall I?" Without waiting for confirmation he strode back to the kitchen, fetching wine and two glasses. He came back to them both laughing, naked, together. He poured them each a glass, then tipped the bottle to his own lips and drank. 

Sherlock frowned. "What are you doing? I don't want to drink your backwash."

John stopped drinking, took a deep breath and said, "I think we're a bit beyond that at this point, love." He set the bottle on the dresser, took Molly's glass and handed it to Sherlock, then wrapped an arm around Molly's waist and his other hand at the back of her neck and dipped her backwards onto the bed as if they'd been dancing. Molly's eyes lit up as she landed softly with John above her. 

"John!" she laughed. "Goodness."

Sherlock blinked rapidly at nothing, still holding the wine glasses, then blurted out "Is that your... _patented_ first move or something?"

John ignored him. He was desperately trying to decide what to do, but then he felt Sherlock's weight on the bed behind him. "I'd say you're a bit overdressed, John," he said, his voice low and dark. He started peeling off his sweater, forcing him to sit back, leaning into him. Sherlock tucked his chin over his shoulder as he started to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Don't do your sex voice yet. We've barely started," John pleaded, his own voice gone dry in his throat. 

"Hmmm, I don't know what you mean," he seemed to purr against John's neck as he continued undressing him, letting his lips drag against his skin. John looked over at Molly. 

A new flush had spread across her face and her pupils were so dilated her eyes looked nearly black. She reached towards John, unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down.  She looked up as Sherlock peeled the last layer of clothing from John's chest, but saw past the actions into his anxiety. 

"John," she said gently, removing her hands from his waist. "This can be overwhelming. Do you want things to slow down a bit?" 

"No. We're in perfect position for page 274," Sherlock replied. 

"Oh, you can stuff your book!" Molly snapped at him. "It's much more fluid in reality. We'll all three, figure it out together. Yes?" 

John nodded at her, taking a rather shaky breath in. Sherlock, however, was looking at her strangely. "You've done this before," he stated. 

"Yes, of course I have," she said. She smiled at John. "First time is always a bit nerve-wracking." She shifted herself back, and John and Sherlock followed suit, John scooting up against the headboard and Sherlock sprawling on his side by Molly's feet. 

Sherlock rested his cheek on his hand and sighed. "Are we going to...share our  _feelings_ now?" 

Molly slowly turned to look at him. "Do you go in for that now, feelings? Since when?"

"Since him," Sherlock answered, jerking his chin towards John. 

"Well, why don't you share what you're feeling right now," she said testily.

"I'm feeling like this threesome is failing to meet my expectations." 

"I don't think John is quite there yet, Sherlock." 

He shifted slightly so he was looking at Molly. "You are."

Molly began to smirk. She leaned towards him and said, "Care to make it a twosome?" 

Sherlock's eyes flicked over to John. "When you're ready," he said. "Anytime, John." 

John watched in fascinated horror as Sherlock turned onto his hands and knees and stalked along Molly's body like a cat. He halted at her waist and, lowering his head, stroked his cheek along her thigh to her hip. He inhaled deeply. "You smell like honey," he said. "Didn't you once say, John, that hair color dictated a woman's scent?" 

John didn't answer.

"You said brunettes were pungent," he continued. "Blondes are musty. Gingers, spicy. Like spiced honey." He tilted his head on Molly's hip to look at her face. "Do you taste like it, too?" 

Molly breath hitched as she whispered, "I don't know."

Sherlock smiled. "Let's find out."

John could feel every last cell of his body paralyze as he watched Sherlock lower his face between Molly's thighs. She gasped as his tongue slid along her lips and gently flicked off her clit. "You do," he smiled. He looked at John from the corner of his eye. "She tastes like honey, John."

"John."

"JOHN!"

He opened his eyes to darkness. Arms were tightly wound around him. "You're safe; you're home," a voice said into his ear. Lips brushed against his temple. "Afghanistan again?" the voice asked. 

Sherlock. Baker Street. Just them. John's erratic breathing began to slow. He used the breathing technique from therapy; breathe in count of four, breathe out count of eight. "No, worse," he whispered to him. 

Sherlock loosened his grip on him. "What was it?" he asked, his voice dropping back to a sleep drenched rumble. 

John shook his head. "Nightmare."

"Hmm, didn't sound like a nightmare at first."

"It was, definitely, a nightmare," John replied. "You organized a sex party for me."

Sherlock's face contorted into disgust. Then he laughed. "That certainly qualifies as a nightmare, then," he agreed. "Worse than the war, though? Really?"

John was still doing the breathing exercise. "Really," he answered on the exhale. He pulled Sherlock closer to him. Sherlock brought his hand to John's face and brushed his fingers through his hair. John placed his own hand over his, holding it still, and closed his eyes. 

Sherlock smiled against John's neck. "Mine."

One more deep breath. "Yes," John sighed. "Yours."

**Author's Note:**

> This was incredibly difficult to write. Mostly because I'm a fairly hardcore Johnlocker. Forgive me my sins.
> 
> *someone suggested that it seemed like I was saying Molly or threesomes were gross and that is not at all what I meant. I just feel that John and Sherlock belong to each other only. 
> 
> **Also I wrote this for my friend's birthday but she hates it and thinks I'm a huge asshole


End file.
